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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25773979">It Can Always Get Worse</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmaladeSkies/pseuds/marmaladeSkies'>marmaladeSkies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>From Worse to Merely Bad [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Archive warning is to be safe, Gen, Harm to Children, Technically Dimitri is here too but he doesn’t do anything, Tragedy of Duscur (Fire Emblem)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:53:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,071</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25773979</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmaladeSkies/pseuds/marmaladeSkies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been the worst day of Dedue’s life. But it’s not over yet...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>From Worse to Merely Bad [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848643</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It Can Always Get Worse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Chapter two of The King’s Road is kicking my ass, so you get this short little thing instead. Happy reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dedue really needed to pee.</p><p>	This was a problem, because he was pretty sure the only thing keeping him alive was the Faerghan boy clinging tightly to his arm. Prince, they’d called him. Prince! How was this possible? The village head had figured the injured boy had to be someone important, but...</p><p>	(The village head was dead, along with everyone else in Ruovdigilli. They were dead, they were gone, he’d never again watch the sunset with the baker’s daughter, never again listen to the miners struggle to censor their work songs for impressionable young ears, never again help his parents cook dinner, never again pick wild berries with his sister and brothers, never do so many things he thought would last forever...)</p><p>	Everyone else had to be asleep by now. If he was careful not to wake up the boy (the baker’s family hadn’t been able to get much out of him, not even his name), he could sneak out, do his business, and sneak back in without anyone knowing.</p><p>	Or he could run into the woods and not look back. Except, it was the middle of the night and he’d be running blind. The noise he’d end up making would wake everyone in the camp. If he was lucky, the boy prince would keep him alive again. If he wasn’t (and with how the day had gone, he definitely wasn’t), the knights would hunt him down for sport. Maybe even send the dogs out to bite and tear at him. They’d done it to the others that had tried to run.</p><p>	(They’d caved in the mine entrance so anyone who might have hidden there would starve to death.)</p><p>	Dedue couldn’t join his family yet. Someone had to perform their last rites, make sure their spirits found their way to Seapmi. His village’s shaman was dead (as was the baker, the miners, the traveling teachers that had stopped in to tell the children about places far away and that they would never visit, the children themselves...), and he certainly couldn’t do them himself, but if he could find someone willing and able to perform them for people they’d never met...</p><p>	He doubted that would happen. But it was possible, <i>if</i> he managed to stay alive.</p><p>	With difficulty, Dedue extracted his arm from the grip of the Faerghan boy. The lad grumbled, but remained asleep. Then he silently crept out of the medical tent. No guards that he could see, but he still couldn’t be too careful; it would be easy for someone to hide out here. He shuffled his feet on the ground to avoid stepping on errant tree branches; they’d give him away if they snapped. Spotting obstacles by the limited amount of light from campfire embers and the few stars that peeked through the forest canopy was an impossible task, so he held his hands out in front of him and walked slowly to avoid hitting anything.</p><p> </p><p>	After relieving himself, Dedue tried to sneak back to the tent. On his way, however, two soldiers materialized out of the darkness and flanked him, one next to either shoulder. They resisted his attempts to go back to the medical tent, instead herding him to the clearing around the embers the last campfire to burn out, where a man in knight’s regalia was waiting.</p><p>	With a growing sense of horror, Dedue realized that he recognized this man. This was the knight who had burst into the root cellar where most of his family was huddled in hiding from what they’d thought was bandits. He’d ran his little sister through with a blade still covered in his father’s blood, killed his mother as she screamed and tried to run to her daughter’s side, and would have slashed Dedue open shoulder-to-waist had the Faerghan boy not leapt in front of the blow.</p><p>	At a gesture, the two soldiers forced Dedue to his knees. He should have known this would happen; a half-conscious boy realistically wouldn’t have been able to keep him safe for long, no matter how important he was. He should have fled when he had the chance, no matter how risky it was. Such a stupid boy he was.</p><p>	The hands on his shoulders were firm enough to prevent any struggling as the knight unsheathed his sword, ember-light glinting on the blade. Dedue wondered if it was going to be fast, of if the knight was going to gut him and leave him to slowly bleed out like his mother had.</p><p>	He hadn’t seen his brothers die -he’d been dragged out of the root cellar too quickly-, but he’d heard their cries. It had been over fast. The knight was taking a few practice swings, blade cutting the air with an ominous <i>whoosh,</i> so maybe this would be too. If he was lucky. Dedue had not had a lucky day.</p><p>	The soldiers at his back shoved him forward slightly as the knight took up position beside him. The man rested his sword on the back of Dedue’s neck, blade biting ever so slightly into his skin, before raising it. Dedue whimpered and looked down, waiting for the killing blow.</p><p>	The blade came down not an inch in front of his face. It took Dedue a moment to realize he was still alive, and when he did he stared blankly up at the knight. ‘Why am I not dead?’ he wanted to ask, but his voice failed him.</p><p>	The man reached down to grab a handful of hair and wrench him upwards. “Listen to me, boy,” the knight hissed in his ear. “You’ll keep him entertained if you know what’s best for you. Because when His Highness gets bored and throws you away? I’ll make you <i>wish</i> I’d aimed true.”</p><p>	And then he was dropped, landing halfway in the depleted fire-pit. Dust and ashes flew up to settle on his clothes. One hand landed on an active ember, but he didn’t cry out. He didn’t dare.</p><p>	A hand hauled Dedue up by his shirt, shoved him in the direction of the medical tent. He went, clutching his burned palm. Staggered through the tent flap, crawled back into the bedroll with the Faerghan boy. Allowed his arm to once again be used as a pillow. Tried to get to sleep himself.</p><p>	He hoped that he would wake up and everything would just be a terrible nightmare. He knew he wouldn’t. He wasn’t that lucky.</p>
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